I went shoe shopping the other day, in search of new running shoes. The ones I have are worn and in need of replacement. I walked down to Sports Basement, by the Golden Gate Bridge, just before sunset and regretted not bringing my camera. Dense fog enveloped the base of the bridge giving it the appearance of floating on clouds. The rest of the sky remained clear, made golden by the setting sun. It was something to behold.
When I arrived at Sports Basement I tried on countless pairs of shoes. Some with motion control, some advertised high stability and others were neutral. None of them felt as comfortable as my badly beaten sneakers, now more like slippers. The new shoes were hard and unaccommodating, lacking the pliant familiarity of those on my feet. I really didn't want new shoes - I love the ones I have. They are bad for me now though, causing harm; shin splints; pain in my knees; in my lower back. We've hiked many mountains together, and even more trails. We've been to far away coasts and braved all the elements. We wore each other out with walking. We sacrifice ourselves for ourselves. It is necessary.
But these new shoes just weren't right. Ugly too. Neon green and bright orange, midsoles that looked like rotten chunks of styrofoam. Flat-footed, I need more arch support due to my accursed platypus feet. Naturally, this gives me keen discernment concerning comfortable footwear. Soon though, I felt trapped in one of Goldilocks' nightmares. My choices weren't simply too hot, too cold and just right, they were myriad and every one of them wrong. Deeply discouraged I frantically started trying on shoes at random; one of them had to be right...right? Wrong.
I left dejected, with alienated feet unfit to be fitted. If ever there was a more tragic Cinderella, it was me.
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